One Too Many
by Sammysmissingshoe
Summary: AU for Blade Runners. You don't get addicted to heroine and decide to do cigarettes in lieu of it. For Crowley, this means he can't try to get high off of any other human's blood when what he really needs is Sam's Winchester's. Sam and Dean already want him dead, so what's stopping him? Kidnapped, hurt, and tortured Sam! All the best.
1. The One Thing to Get Me By

**AN** : I have had this idea for like two or three months now, but my freaking muse would not cooperate! Luckily, as odd as it sounds, I had a ten hour car ride back from a family vacation where I finally got some time to focus on this story! Also, I have a really bad cold right now so if things are off or weird blame my fever. Story and chapter titles from a TDG song, One Too Many.

* * *

Honestly, the Winchesters were the ones to blame this time. How dare they ever actually expect something to be simple for them? They'd already had two wins in one day. Not only had they managed to find the First Blade, but they'd also been able to do so with minimal torture. See? It was a pretty great day.

Well, for a while.

Just because Crowley had been willing to help them for once, it didn't mean a damn thing once he'd laid eyes on Sam Winchester's bleeding face. It was then that he had a moment of clarity. He'd never been able to experience the same type of feeling with other human's blood because the first blood he was addicted to, Sam Winchester's blood, is unlike any other human's in the entire world; it was tainted.

But, it was tainted oh so beautifully. Drinking it wouldn't quite be vampirism because it wasn't completely human, but it also wasn't cannibalism because Sam also wasn't completely a demon. His blood was special, and Crowley wanted- _needed_ more.

He'd played his part well though. He'd gotten Dan loose and Dean had killed the bastard that had had the nerve to cut Sam and allow all that blood to go to waste. Crowley had kept his distance from them both until they'd all made it back to the poor excuse for a car that Dean drove.

Watching Dean's smug and usually far too high and mighty demeanor vanish when he'd seen what Abbadon had done to that phallus on wheels brought Crowley more joy than it should have.

As smart as Sam typically was, he did something pretty stupid just then. He leaned over to Dean and whispered quite loudly about how leaving Crowley alive was now unnecessary now that they had the blade. Seriously, did he think Crowley didn't have ears?

The second they both turned around Crowley simply flicked his wrist and sent both boys into the Impala pinning them immobile against it, and causing Sam to drop the blade.

"One thing about forcing sobriety upon someone," he explained as he beckoned the blade to himself. "Is that sobering thoughts then to come with them."

"You know that blade's no good to you without me." Dean pointed out.

"Don't interrupt, I'm sure your mother told you that at least once before she fried."

"You son of a bitch!" Dean growled as he uselessly yanked against the invisible force that was pinning him down.

"How many times have I been over this? It's son of a _witch._ " Crowley corrected with a grin.

"You really like hearing yourself talk, don't you?" Sam ground out through his teeth.

"Suppose I can't blame your mother for never teaching you that, can I, Moose? And I highly doubt your alcoholic father gave enough of a damn to try and teach you decent manners."

"If you have a point just get to it already." Sam snapped.

"Actually, I was going to thank both of you. Cutting me off made me realise something. I wasn't craving any old human's blood." A classic villainous smile crept onto Crowley's face. "I was craving Sam's."

Both Winchesters' eyes went wide at that. "If you touch my brother," Dean warned. "I swear to God, I'll kill you!"

Crowley huffed. "Fine, Dean, whatever you say." He grinned again. "Look, no hands."

And before Dean could protest, Sam and Crowley both vanished.

Lacking both a brother and a blade, Dean smashed his fist into the hood of his car in a bout of rage. He seemed to be having an abundance of those lately. He had no idea if Crowley had the intention of killing Sam, but that didn't matter. Dean wasn't gonna let Crowley hurt his brother.

* * *

Sam couldn't help but let out a scream as a knife scraped against bone for about the sixth time.

Crowley had wasted no time in getting him trussed up and finding a few bored minions who were more than willing to make Sam bleed. Sam could usually hold out for quite a while before he started screaming, but when there were four demons working him over at once, keeping his resolve was a hell of a lot more difficult.

He at least tried to be grateful for the fact that the demons had set buckets below the table he was currently tied to, rather than cutting him and having Crowley suck the blood right out of him like a leech.

He gritted his teeth and snapped his eyes shut once more as a tip of a blade nicked the sensitive skin of his inner arm. He managed not to scream this time, and simply tensed his muscles, futilely pulling on his bonds.

"That's enough now, boys." Sam heard Crowley command, followed by the sighs and grumbles of the disappointed demons. Sam swallowed, allowing himself to accept that the pain was over, at least for a little while.

If he hadn't just endured ten straight minutes of torture, Sam would probably come up with some sort of retort to Crowley, but since that was the case, he just closed his eyes and relished in the break in the agony.

Sam figured he briefly passed out, because when he opened his eyes again, Crowley was already riding his high from the blood. He was moaning in a way that made Sam twitch in discomfort, and when Crowley looked at him his eyes were almost completely pupil, and it would be a lie to say it didn't put Sam on edge.

"I've always thought you were sick," Sam said once he had the ability to focus long enough without wanting to vomit. "But you've really outdone yourself this time."

All Crowley did was snap, and then a white hot pain tore through Sam's body as soon as the remark had left his mouth. He arched his back, only causing the many wounds on his chest to tear open anew, sending more blood trickling down his abdomen. Distantly, he could hear the distressed and garbled sounds he was involuntarily making, but he was too busy thinking 'Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!' to try to silence himself.

By the time the pain finally ceased Sam couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, not even when Crowley began to speak to him.

"You're really in no position to be rude to me, Moose." Even now, Crowley sounded just as smug as he always had. "And besides, not like you of all people can judge me for having a bit of a blood addiction, now can you?"

Sam gritted his teeth at the grim reminder. "But I can tell you that it won't end well. Take it from someone who knows."

"I'd be more inclined to believe you if I didn't know you were just trying to save your own skin."

Sam scoffed. "It's not my skin I'm worried about, Crowley."

There was another snap, and the pain returned. Sam thrashed and seized in his bonds against his will, and he wasn't sure if the liquid dribbling from his eye was a tear, or blood.

It finally cut off again, and Sam took a few moments to regain his senses. "Wh-why are you doing this?"

"You mean teaching you not to speak out of turn?"

"No, all of this. Is a little buzz really worth having Dean on your ass?"

"Dean Winchester doesn't scare me."

"Well then you're an idiot."

The snap was expected, but that didn't make it hurt any less. In fact, Sam was positive that this bout was far worse than the other two. He writhed and writhed in his bonds until they creaked, and he was pretty sure he was beginning to bite through his tongue.

"You feel that I take it?" Crowley asked casually once the pain had once again receded.

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes, regardless of the consequences. _"No, I'm just having a freaking seizure over here cuz it's a little humid out."_ He thought bitterly.

"That's what your blood gives me. It's not just about the high, Moose. There's power in your blood. Not quite human, but not quite demon. It's my own private stash, and so long as I'm not too greedy, I'll never run out."

"Don't do this, Crowley."

That cocky Crowley grin was the only answer Sam received. Crowley turned his back and flicked the only light source in the room off, leaving Sam in the dark, and in a lot of pain.

And to think Sam believed Magnus was his biggest problem of the day.

* * *

 **AN:** I know nothing about drugs or highs or that kind of crap, so if how Crowley acts when he's on Sam's blood is wrong, that'd be why. Unfortunately, it is summer so I'm probably more prone to procrastinate on my writing so I apologise in advance if I can't get it up to post the final chapter too quickly. But, it is mostly written which is why you get a-

Sneak Peek: "The far too toothy smile gleamed in the poorly lit hell Sam was currently trapped in..."

Drop a review if y'all are enjoying and have the time! Hope to see you soon!


	2. For Another Night

**AN:** This chapter would have been up a little sooner today if my cat didn't insist upon snuggling me. Thanks to all followers and favourites out there, it always helps! Hope you enjoy the final chapter!

* * *

Sam wasn't sure how he was alive. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be. It seemed that he'd lost more blood than possible over these past two or three days. Maybe the demons were performing some kind of ritual to keep him from dying, he didn't know, but he didn't really care either. It wasn't like he was appreciative in the slightest.

Honestly, the only thing he was even relatively grateful for was the fact that Crowley had no intention of killing him. At least not anytime soon.

By now, Sam had learned the schedule. Demons would come in, torture him until he passed out or long enough to gather plenty of blood. He'd come to in time to see Crowley practically dying of- and it grossed Sam to see it that way, but- ecstasy. Then Crowley would leave him be for about two hours to recover, then the cycle would start again.

So when four demons entered the room almost immediately after Crowley had left, Sam knew something was up, and there was no way it was going to be good.

"Our King's been acting a little different lately." One of them announced.

"Keeping Winchesters as pets?" Another said as it shook its head.

"And the way he'd punishing those who step out of line." The third whistled. "It's a thing of demonic beauty."

"But we can't help thinking," The first one interjected. "That your blood's got something to do with it."

"So," The second continued. "We decided we'd give it a little taste ourselves."

Now, Sam and Crowley weren't friends, even allies was a bit of a stretch. But the one thing that had kept Sam sane throughout this whole ordeal was that Crowley was leaving him alive. Sam didn't have faith that these for demons had the same courtesy.

He felt his eyes widening as they drew nearer, and in a fit of desperation he started to call out for the one person who might actually be willing to show him some mercy. "Crow-!"

But then a hand clamping over his mouth sealed his fate.

The far too toothy smile gleamed in the poorly lit hell Sam was currently trapped in, and he panted air in and out of his nose against the hand muffling him. He hated it, but he was scared right now. Very scared.

When he felt four sets of lips and teeth close around his many wounds, he didn't even try not to scream.

* * *

Coming down from the high was always disappointing, and often times, somewhat painful. It seemed that the more hits Crowley had, the harder the loss of the high felt.

The end of his current high started off with a ringing, a loud one. He was ready to kill whoever was making that bloody sound before he realised that it was his cell phone. 'Not Moose' flashed across the screen.

This was nowhere near the first time Dean Winchester had called Crowley within the past three days, but Crowley decided to cut the lad a break, and actually picked up this time.

"Squirrel."

 _"Now you listen here, Crowley,"_ Came Dean's voice from the other end, filled with ire. _"Whether you give Sam back or not, I swear to God, I will kill you for this!"_

Crowley chucked. "Well then good luck getting your special blade back."

 _"What are you doing to him right now?"_

"None of your business, and all of mine. Don't worry, he's still alive."

 _"Let me talk to him."_ If Crowley wasn't mistaken, there was almost a hint of a plea behind the request.

"And why should I let you do that?"

 _"Because I'm ask-"_ Crowley could practically hear Dean swallowing his pride. _"Because I'm begging you, Crowley. Let me talk to Sam."_

The boy sure knew how to grovel. That was always such an admirable quality according to Crowley. "Fine." He slipped the phone to speaker-mode, and held it at his side as he set out for Sam's room.

Having reached what should have been an empty room, Crowley's stomach dropped when he heard Sam screaming from the other side of the door. He hurriedly swung it open, and recoiled at the sight before him.

Four demons, four demons of his own demons had clearly been sampling Sam's blood for themselves, and were currently experimenting with their newfound abilities.

Crowley watched one flick a hand, and Sam's body lurched up as his mouth went open with a strangled gasp. Crowley could actually see Sam's kneecap pop through his skin. Sure, Crowley wasn't squeamish in the slightest, especially when it came for torture, but for some reason, this just wasn't as fun to watch.

Unaware of Crowley's presence, the demons continued their torture. One laid a hand on Sam's uninjured leg, but that changed with a small jerk of its wrist. The crack would have echoed loudly in the room if it hadn't been overpowered by Sam's scream.

The scream died on a broken and terrified moan from their victim. "Pl-please..."

 _"Sam!"_

Oh, bullocks, Dean was still on the phone!

Crowley knew he could get away with a lot of things. Taking Bobby Singer's soul as insurance, working with Raphael, kidnapping and torturing Kevin, hell, even killing all the people the Winchesters had ever saved, but the one thing the Winchesters would never be able to look past would be letting one of them die.

Being on Sam's bad side was one thing. He'd give a bitchface or five, maybe throw a few hurtful words. If it was really bad, he might just kill you.

Dean Winchester on the other hand, he won't just kill you, he'd make you beg for it first. It didn't take much to make Dean angry, but Crowley knew the one thing that would be the closest thing to suffering the wrath of God himself would be facing Dean should Sam die by his hand.

In a nutshell, when Crowley said that Dean didn't scare him, he was lying.

Crowley clicked the phone off, and without even making his presence known, he snapped his fingers, and he didn't miss how the action made Sam flinch in anticipation. But the snap wasn't for him, instead all the demons suddenly burst into flames, burning all the way down to bone until nothing remained, allowing smoldering flecks of skin to float to the ground like autumn leaves.

Hurrying over to Sam, Crowley couldn't help but let his eyes linger on all the fresh blood on Sam's body. He quickly remembered what was at stake should he let Sam die, and started undoing the straps pinning Sam down.

A pained groan was all Sam could give in response.

"You can't trust anyone these days." Crowley muttered angrily. "Open your eyes, Sam."

Sam only winced and curled in on himself as much as he could before he gasped in pain when his many injuries were feeling neglected and demanded attention.

There was no way Crowley would be able to deliver Sam back to Dean like this without getting himself killed. Unless...

Hoping he had guessed correctly, he scanned Sam's chest for a new anti-possession tattoo to replace the one Castiel had burnt off. Upon not finding one, Crowley sighed in relief.

"Sorry for this, Moose. It's better for both of us this way." Crowley opened his usual meatsuit's mouth, and then slipped out in a stream of red smoke, and headed right into Sam.

Now safe and sound inside Sam's body, Crowley sat up and flexed Sam's fingers, regretting it instantly when he realised some were broken. With the ones that weren't, Crowley grabbed his phone and called Dean again. It barely rang even once before the infuriated voice started shouting at him.

 _"You son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill you for hurting him! You hear me, Crowley?! I will hunt your ass down! Screw the damn blade, Abbadon can have your damn throne! You're gonna pay for this!"_

"Are you finished?" Crowley missed the familiar accent of his old vessel.

 _"Sam? How are you-"_ There was a pause as everything clicked inside of Dean's head. _"Get the hell out of my brother, Crowley!"_

"Afraid not, Dean. You won't dare hurt me so long as I have Sam as my meatshield."

 _"You motherf-!"_

"If you could stop yelling for three seconds," Crowley interrupted. "You would be very happy to hear that I'm giving your gigantor back."

 _"Why the hell would you do that?"_

"Because I rather enjoy not being dead. I'm sending you an address, meet me there and Sam is yours. But do hurry, even with me riding him I'm not sure he'll last too long." He had chosen those words very carefully just to further unnerve Dean.

 _"Crowley!"_

With a chuckle, Crowley hung up. Forgetting the broken leg, Crowley stood up only to instantly collapse on the floor.

"Bloody hell!" He brushed himself off. "How does Moose walk with these stupid things?"

Giving a huff, Crowley snapped and beamed himself to the location he'd texted Dean. Landing was far from pleasant, and Crowley saw no point in moving, so he just stayed on the ground, wanting Dean to show up soon because this was rather boring.

 _"D-on't 'ur' 'im."_ A voice in his head said. A familiar voice. Sam? Oh, how cute, he was fighting.

"Come again, Moose?"

 _"Don't you- dare h-hurt Dean."_

Typical. Even after days of torture and relatively close to death, Sam's concern was still for his brother rather than himself. "Calm down, I'm not hurting anyone right now. Just getting you back without putting my own life on the line."

 _"Wh-why?"_

"Your brother's an angry one, as you well know, and I'd prefer Abbadon be the one who has to suffer through it."

 _"H-he's not gonna l-let this go."_

"He will if he ever wants to get his hands on that blade again."

 _"I hate you."_

"Sticks and stones, Moose." Crowley then heard a door creak open. "Looks like we've got company."

"Alright," Dean announced. "I'm here. No tricks, I just want my brother back, Crowley." It took all Dean had not to run over and start beating 'Crowley's' face in. He had considered it up until he'd seen how wrecked Sam looked. Sam was tough though, Dean knew he would've been able to take a few punches had he decided to teach Crowley a quick lesson.

"He's all yours. As is the blade once you know where to find Abbadon. Until next time, Squirrel." Crowley opened Sam's jaw and slipped out. He was not looking forward to his second round of detoxing, but he decided it was better than being dead.

"Sam!" Dean yelled as he watched his brother crumple to the ground, and he rushed to his side. He scanned Sam's injuries quickly, trying to decide what required immediate attention. After a quick assessment, it looked like all of them did, which meant hospital. Dammit.

"Don't suppose you can move, can you?"

Sam shot him a bitchface accompanied with a groan.

"Didn't think so." Dean took out his phone and dialed 911. Once he got all the usual BS out, he ended the call. "I'll make him pay for this, I swear."

Sighing, Sam closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear Dean swearing vengeance right now. That's not what Dean's supposed to do when Sam's hurting. Dean's supposed to tell him that he's gonna be fine, it isn't even that bad. Sam knew that they would have been lies, but that's what Winchesters do. They lie to one another to make the other feel safe, that's how it's always been.

But not since the mark. Don't even make Sam go into detail about that empty rage in Dean's eyes when he had killed Magnus. That wasn't even Dean.

Wanting to hide from the pain and troubling thoughts for a while, Sam allowed his mind to slip away from the present. He wanted- needed Dean to tell him to keep his eyes open, but Dean didn't seem to care, and very quickly, Sam passed out once more.

* * *

Someone was shaking him, but not very gently though. "Sam. Sam, c'mon, we gotta move."

That sounded like- "Dean?" Sam opened his eyes, and even without the lights on, he could tell he was in a hospital.

"Yeah. You're all stitched up, fingers back in joint, kneecap's back in place, and your leg's all casted up too. We'll cut it off once we get somewhere safe."

"C-cut my leg off?!"

Damn, what meds did they give him? "The cast, dumbass. C'mon, we're getting you out of here. We gotta find Abbadon, cuz the sooner we do, the sooner I get to put a blade through Crowley's heart."

How could Dean be so unsympathetic right now? Sam had been dying, but all Dean cared about was getting his hands back on that blade, and killing with it.

Still, Sam nodded and tried to lug his gigantic and casted leg off the hospital bed, nearly breaking when Dean showed no interest in assisting him.

Realising how cold and detached Dean was hurt Sam more than anything Crowley and his goons had done to him over the past few days. Sam didn't want to admit it, but he knew.

His brother was fading.

* * *

 **AN:** I had no intention of making this story so angst-y at the end, but I remembered how uncaring Dean becomes when he has the Mark and I really wanted to explore that a little more. Hope you enjoyed this story, and if you did, drop a review! Will be writing again soon, but until then, carry on my wayward sons!


End file.
